Three Things from Edmonton podcast - Episode 93: crisis communications, leverage, Milk Carton Kids


Here’s my unsolicited list of three little things from my little corner of the world that left behind some happiness and gratitude. 

                                          

1. Crisis communications
 
Babysitting. What a misnomer. There’s a baby, alright, but there’s not much sitting. Instead, there’s a lot of swaying, rocking, bouncing, strolling, pacing, hoisting, pointing, lunging, bending, kneeling, climbing, carrying and dancing—lots of dancing. Shelagh and I pulled a long weekend shift caring for Little Buddy while his parents were away. It was a remarkable and moving 60 hours on the front lines of grandson care. I had forgotten many things. Forgotten how satisfying it is to have a four-month-old chew my finger with all his might, and no teeth. How to unlock from its base a car seat in which a back-facing, belted-in child sat outside OTTO on 95 Street, forgot that. Forgot how much little ones love the water, like they still remember the sea. And forgot what lungs in the tiny chest of a momentarily sleeping baby look and sound like—kinda like a pup tent in the breeze.


Heading into the weekend I was pretty sure we wouldn’t get much sleep. I was right. Either Little Buddy was wide awake, eyes wide like slot machine windows, or, worrying he wasn’t breathing, half awake were we. I was sure that I’d be undone by the shrieks and wails of a hungry or scared or wet or stomach-upset human being without the words to say what the matter was. I was wrong. Those howls happened, but they didn’t bother me. This time around I found it remarkable that someone without words was so clearly able to get his state of mind across. This time around I heard a baby’s cry as a clever way to get caregivers to use their limbs to feed and transport the baby.  Little people are clever crisis communicators. They deliver essential information clearly and repeatedly with a call to action—for the babysitters. 


2. Leverage 

Leverage is a communications buzzword for me because I pretty much failed physics. I do know enough history, though, to know leverage can be groundbreaking. Archimedes is recorded as saying, give me a lever long enough and a fulcrum on which to place it, and I shall move the world. These days, I likely look a little lost when I hear leverage tossed around. It’s a sacred word! And it’s a bicycle word, too. I mean, it is surely the ancient knowledge of leverage that is what a child apprehends and cannot forget about a two-wheeler, the machine that allows the leg to be applied to the pedal and crank to produce movement multiplied beyond the initial application of force—stepping down to soar, that’s leverage I get.


The LEGO commercial about leverage is airing again. I unmute the TV when it comes on. It’s the 30-second Tale of the Wet Knight, whom the villagers are helping to get across a lake. Maybe you’ve seen it. Technology fails them. A boat cracks under the knight’s weight. A catapult projects him into the water, not across. The knight is close to dashing across a makeshift bridge when it collapses. It is then the viewer learns the plot is in the imagination of children trying to get a knight made of LEGO across a bridge made of LEGO to a playful bear made of LEGO sitting ready to play on the other side of the lake.


In the end, it works out. As the commercial closes, the knight and the bear and then a girl are seen on a childhood device even more fundamentally Archimedean than a bicycle: the teeter totter. Seesaw. Lever, fulcrum. Rebuild the world, LEGO says, echoing Archimedes. It’s fun to watch LEGO play with the old,  classic toys. 



3. The Milk Carton Kids 

The Milk Carton Kids are guitarists and singers Joey Ryan and Kenneth Pattengale. We’ve listened to their handcrafted harmonies on steady rotation since finding them at the Edmonton Folk Music Festival, which is another way of saying, thanks, Terry. Terry Wickham got an emotional thank you from the band toward the end of their show at the Winspear Centre on Tuesday. Pattengale praised the folk fest and called Wickham a guardian angel.


Then, with Katie Pruitt, the duo closed the show with Randy Newman’s “You’ve Got A Friend In Me.” It was a lovely tribute to Wickham, now conducting the folk festival toward its 44th installment next August, see you on the hill. The rendition brought tears to Shelagh’s eyes, I knew without looking. And I knew without looking that she wasn’t just sitting next to me. She was also back watching Toy Story on VHS with Buzz and Woody and her own little boys and then, fast forward, back dancing to the song in her green dress as the mother of the groom with her youngest son on his wedding night in a big white tent across from Gallagher Park last year.

On our way out of the Winspear, Wickham walked by. Shelagh caught his eye and said, thank you, Terry, making me realize that, sometimes, those two passing words, thank you, are loaded to the rim with life.

Thank you for being out there, friends. 

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